


All Stories Start In A Bar

by White Aster (white_aster)



Series: Test of Gold [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-26
Updated: 2005-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clyde grabbed the bottle.  He swayed only a little as he stood and cocked his head at Dane.  "Why are you doing this?"  He frowned, as if remembering something.  "I'm not into men, if that's what you're thinking."</p><p>Dane laughed.  <i>Right,</i> he thought. <i>And that was brotherly affection I kept seein' when you looked at Berem?  Suuure....</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	All Stories Start In A Bar

Dane propped his feet up on an empty chair. The room was packed. Night was well on its way, and everyone was waking up, climbing out of rented rooms and abandoned buildings and other peoples' beds to grab some food, find their friends, make some money. Another night in Zozo. In a week or so, Dane would probably be joining them in the usual games, but right then he'd just finished a sweet job and was enjoying the fruit of his labors. A bit of well-deserved vacation, he figured.

Of course, because of the aforementioned rumor mill, Dane wasn't the only one who knew about his temporary state of leisure. He'd already had two acquaintances approach him about 'investment opportunities', both of which he'd declined. (One because he didn't trust the proposer further than he could throw him, and the second because he wanted a bigger cut of the profit before he put his coin in, and making the man sweat just might net it for him if he played his cards right.)

Business deals of another kind weren't in short order either: several of Dane's favorite whores had wandered by his table and made sure he knew that they were available. Dane had sent them all kindly on their way. Not that he didn't admire their bared skin and supple movements and tight asses. Quite the contrary. "Maybe tomorrow," he'd said with a wink and a smile, and meant it. It just wasn't what he was looking for tonight. Or maybe he just didn't feel like paying for it.

Dane's eyes wandered as he drank down the last of his ale. His eyes caught on a figure at his end of the bar. The guy wasn't much to look at. Nondescript. Average. Light brown hair just long enough to be pulled into a tail, most of his build shrouded under clothes the usual dun, washed-out color of Zozo. All Dane could see were his forearms and hands, muscled but not too much, his fingers curled around a glass of clear liquid that Dane was willing to bet was NOT water. Beyond that, though, the guy had the averagely average look that was great for a thief or a hood: nothing special about him to stick out. Not his usual type, Dane decided. But he looked familiar.

"Ye be wantin' somethin' else, sir?" The server was back, a tray of empty mugs balanced over his shoulder. Now THIS was more Dane's type, he had to admit. Dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes and an impish smile that was none the worse for his slightly crooked front teeth. The young man's shirt ended at navel and mid-bicep, giving Dane the opportunity to look over the wiry muscle that kept the tray balanced while he collected Dane's empty mug. He grinned at Dane's duly appreciative look. "Anythin' else I can get ye?"

Dane chuckled and shook his head, but flipped the young man a coin worth his tab plus a bit extra. "Not tonight." He nodded his chin over at the silent man by the bar. "What do ya know about him?"

" 'im?" The lad shrugged. "Quiet. Glares at anyone that tries to talk to 'im. Hasn't said anythin' to anyone since 'e walked in, 'cept to order. Pays as he goes, though, s' 'e's better'n half the drunks in this joint."

"Any blades on him?" 'Besides the obvious' was unspoken but understood by both of them.

The lad looked at Dane sideways. "Dunno...didn't really have a reason to look...."

"Really? That's too bad...." Dane produced another coin, rolling it between his fingers with a smile.

The server grinned. "Now't ye mention it, 'e's got a short sword on 'is belt and a knife in 'is boot and a few small throwin' blades around, I think."

Dane grinned back, tossing the coin. "Good boy."

The coin was caught smoothly in midair and disappeared thief-quick. The lad winked. "M'name's Fawn. Let me know if ye need anythin' else, sir. Anythin' a'tall...." He put a little sway into his step as he walked off, tray still perfectly balanced. Dane watched until the little flirt was swallowed up by the crowd. He could just see the outline of a small knife in a sheath at the small of the lad's back, and another on his thigh. Yes, definitely his type. But his eyes slid over to the bar again.

It wasn't surprising, really, Dane thought as his finger traced an idle circle on the table. Thieves were a tight community. They didn't trust each other, and because they didn't trust each other, they were horrible gossips. Knowledge was worth more than gold. Knowledge of who'd been talking to the guard. Knowledge of who had broken and run on his last job. Knowledge of who was (moderately) trustworthy, who was good to have at your back, who was likely to show up for a job drunk, who liked to work alone, who was GOOD enough to work alone, who was good with a knife, who was likely to try and get into your pants, who was fucking who and for how long and in what positions. If running for his life from the guards, killing whoever got in his way, or holding some of the most precious items in the world in his hands wasn't enough excitement for Dane, the thieves' rumor mill would have keep him entertained. He'd worked with half the people in this town, probably half the people in this bar, at one time or another, and half of the rest he'd at least heard of or knew on sight.

"Ah, well," Dane thought as he stood up. "If he tells me to piss off, can always go find that serving lad."

He'd no more sat down next to the guy than he'd earned a "Go away."

" 'ch. Now THAT'S friendly. I just wanna buy ya a drink."

"I don't care. Go away." The man's hand dropped to his side, to sit on the hilt of his short sword. A closer look, though, and Dane could see that it wasn't the usual hack and chop, more-machete-than-anything-else short sword. The guard was odd-shaped, the sheathe battered lacquered wood. He'd seen that sword before....ah. Dane wracked his brain for the guy's name.... Berem's pup...name was....

Dane chuckled. "Ease down. Clyde. I'll go away if ya want, but after drinkin' that damn much hooch, ya'll at least need someone to help ya up to ya room."

Clyde finally turned to look at him, expression wary, then perplexed. "You...."

"Dane," Dane supplied. "Jidoor. The Symons job last year."

"Ah. Yeah. You're a friend of--"

Dane could all but hear his train of thought crash to a halt. "Berem's, yeah. I was sorry to hear about him. I know ya two were partners."

Clyde tipped back his glass, swallowing the last of his drink. "Not anymore." He set the glass down heavily on the bar, and finally made eye contact. Dane's empathy didn't even have to TRY. The wave of guilt-shame-depression washed over him like a tide, so thick that he missed whatever Clyde'd just said.

"Sorry, come again?"

"I SAID," Clyde enunciated carefully, "what do you want."

Half a dozen coy or ribald responses came to mind, but it didn't look like Clyde would appreciate them. Dane thought hard. The man's black mood still clung to the edges of his mind. Dane had felt that kind of despair before, and half the time the folks it'd come from hadn't lived out the week. Dane didn't know the details of what had happened after that train robbery, but he was pretty sure that Berem would have wanted him to look out for his partner. Dane shrugged at Clyde. "Just wanted to offer a helpin' hand. Wouldn't want ya to get rolled on ya way back to ya room. Ya got one here?"

Clyde blinked. "Yeah."

Dane grinned. "Good, me too. Ya 'bout done there?"

Clyde looked down at the empty glass. "No." He looked sidewise at Dane, and Dane endeavored to look as harmless and friendly as possible. Clyde sighed and waved over the bartender, ordering a bottle of the same abominable moonshine that he'd been drinking. "But staying down here isn't a good idea."

"Good! C'mon, then." Dane stood and waited while Clyde fished out enough gold for his tab.

Clyde grabbed the bottle. He swayed only a little as he stood and cocked his head at Dane. "Why are you doing this?" He frowned, as if remembering something. "I'm not into men, if that's what you're thinking."

Dane laughed. _Right,_ he thought. _And that was brotherly affection I kept seein' when you looked at Berem? Suuure...._ "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not gonna try to get in ya pants." He winked. "Not unless ya want me to."

"I don't." Clyde scowled.

But he let Dane lead him to the stairs and back to his room, and Dane figured that was enough.

And little did he know, but not a few of the patrons noticed them leave. And when later Dane and Clyde started working together, they laughed. They ribbed Dane about taking on a nobody little pup, and Dane grinned unpleasantly at them and they shut up, usually. But one joke stuck, earning Clyde a ridiculous nickname which eventually got shortened, and Clyde found that he didn't mind it. By that time he'd decided to make a clean break anyway, and he left his old name behind thankfully, along with his past.

After a few years, there weren't many who still remembered that Shadow had started out as "Dane's shadow".

Dane never let him live it down, though.


End file.
